Let’s face it, we’ve always known Lush were a bit shit. Naomi Klein said as much in No Logo, and that was published in 2001. And we read it and we thought “yeah, she’s got a point. But they do make exceedingly good bath bombs”.
I’m using “we” but I really mean “me”. You probably weren’t even born in 2001. Besides, I need to take full responsibility for my continued use of Lush products. It’s the smell, you see. I just can’t resist the smell. Gets me every time.
I know some people consider Lush stores to be air pollution, pure and simple, but I love it. It’s all vanilla-y and jasmine-y and almost makes you want to puke, but not quite. It still keeps on the right side of brilliant. But Lush, I shall be sniffing your aromas no more.
Since their latest stunt – misogynist torture porn as a consciousness-raising marketing strategy – their bubble bars are history. Yes, Lush, my consciousness was duly raised. It’s through the fucking ceiling. But surely a nice picture of a kitten or a fluffy rabbit would have done the trick?
So I’m saying goodbye to Lush, but before I do, I have some special words to say to my favourite Lush products. You did me proud. But now, my friends, it’s over.
- Lush pudding bath bomb – You are a bath bomb in the form of a Christmas pudding. You used to be called Puddy Holly but changed your name. Why was that? I thought it was a good pun. Anyhow, you looked good but you made a right fucking mess of the bath. I won’t be missing that.
- Lust gorilla perfume – You smelled nice and sounded rude. But you made my neck go red. What was that all about? I thought we were friends.
- Ultrabland cleanser – Apparently 100% of Lush staff use you, you slag of the cleanser world. Which begs the question, why do Lust sell any other type of cleanser? Unless they only employ staff with a certain Ultrabland-suitable skin type. And that’s discrimination.
- Sonic Death Monkey Shower Gel – You smelled of coffee, lime and chocolate, and were suitable to use as shampoo. You were ace and then the fuckers retired you so that now you can only be bought as a “retro” product online. I’m sorry they did that to you. You know I wouldn’t ever have done that.
- Cupcake face mask – You look like chocolate, smell like mint and hurt my face. So, you know, I always had, like, mixed feelings about us.
- Rehab shampoo – Bought for me as a present, I didn’t read your label and thought you were body wash. I’m sorry. I should never have misused you. Still, you got to wash my pubes, which are almost like a full head of hair these days anyhow.
- Massage bars, all varieties – My partner would buy these for me to help ease the stress I experienced while writing my thesis. Now I cannot so much as look at you without all that stress coming back. A Pavlovian reaction, but still, please just fuck off now.
- Glitter bug – You are a solid body glitter bar. I also have a “glitter bug” which is a vibrator-type thingy from Ann Summers. But I always preferred you. The other one was like having an undersized angry egg motoring inside me. By comparison, you were tops.
- Rock star soap – You are pink and smell of bubblegum. I’d use you and I’d hear Courtney Love in my head, singing the fabulous “Rock Star” by Hole. Hole were fucking radical. You, alas, were not (but if Lush had produced a “Teenage Whore” soap, hell, I’d have bought it).
- Ladykillers – Hey you with muscles and the long hair / Telling me that women are superior to men / Most guys just don’t appreciate it / You’re just one convincing me you’re better than them … Hang on a minute. I’m thinking of Lush the 1990s indie band. You were okay, indie band Lush. You can stay.
So I guess I’ve said my goodbyes. Didn’t even mention the bubble bars, but they were never that bubbly. Off to get blood on my hands by buying my superfluous cosmetics somewhere else. And no matter how much soap you buy, you can never wash it off.